


the road that they walk on is paved in gold

by lovelyflowersinherhair



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-26 21:02:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20396110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelyflowersinherhair/pseuds/lovelyflowersinherhair
Summary: The headline did indeed bother Harry.





	the road that they walk on is paved in gold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [julianbashir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/julianbashir/gifts).

“I always thought that these days would get easier,” Harry mumbled into his cup of coffee, as if the beverage was going to hold the secrets to making the majority of his life easier, instead of merely serving as a perfectly steamed conduit to being awake enough to fully process the task at hand. “That defeating Voldemort would normalise me.” He sighed. 

The Daily Prophet sat on the table in front of him, its front section a mockery of Harry’s mood, and he drew in a deep breath, hoping against all hope that the headline (and Harry’s daily tasks) would change. Despite the fact it was not to be. He drew in a deep breath. “Do we really have to do these tasks the Muggle way?” 

“Oh, come on, mate,” Ron said. “You know what the answer to that is going to be. Can you imagine Hermione’s reaction to us setting the Hogwarts’ library back to rights using magic? She’d have our bloody heads for it.” Ron let out a loud shudder. “That headline bothers you?” He gestured to the paper. 

The headline did indeed bother Harry. He thought it was absolutely ludicrous that his decision to provide the members of the Wizarding World who were helping to rebuild Hogwarts with a salary and three square meals a day had been worthy of yet  _ another _ article dedicated to him in the paper. Still, he feared what Ron might be implying with his comment. 

“Of course it bothers me!” Harry said, and he took a sip of coffee, followed by a bite of his porridge. “Everything I bloody do is worthy of heaps of unnecessary praise, like people haven’t been paying people for manual labor since the dawn of time. And if you say ‘not in the Wizarding World’, I am going to bash my head against the table,” he warned. “I just--I understand that I am the Boy Who Lived,” he said. 

Harry did understand this, though he truly viewed it as an accident that had ruined his life, he understood that being a baby that had survived a Killing Curse and then defeated the Dark Lord with six years of half-arsed magical education was probably worthy of praise. 

“Right, that’s why they wrote the article--”

“I wasn’t finished with my thought, Ron,” he sighed. He was already getting a headache. “I simply wish that they didn’t think everything I did out of the kindness of my heart was newsworthy.” Another spoonful of porridge. Harry let out a sigh. “What are you getting at, though?” 

“I just think that Boy Who Lived Bludgeoned By Beaten Book has a nice ring to it,” Ron said in reply, a smirk on his lips. “And I think there’s a great chance that Hermione might decide to make that a reality if we don’t hold every last library book in our hands. You don’t want that, do you?”

Harry blanched. He most certainly did not. And Hermione was more than capable of doing so. 

Harry sighed.

“I suppose there is something to be said for Muggle methods,” he said. “Mainly that I am well versed in using them.”

* * *

Time was of the essence when it came to rebuilding Hogwarts, and though having the so-called Golden Trio take part in the rebuilding efforts was a boon for morale and fundraising efforts, Professor McGonagall had had the sense to find what Harry suspected was essentially busywork for the threesome, or, at least, for himself and Ron. Whilst Hermione was always good for things requiring extra intellect, Harry had next to no idea about how one would go about rebuilding a magical school (amazingly enough that had not been covered in Aunt Petunia’s teachings on the fine art of doing ones chores!) and though Ron had a magical background, it had been decided that having him work where his older brother had died was a new sense of cruelty. 

Harry was fairly certain that decision was due in a large part to Mrs. Weasley’s feelings on the subject, and not those of Ron’s. 

He had also decided that it didn’t matter. The busywork meant that they were kept out of the way of the throngs of people, and as much as Harry respected their feelings of adoration of him, being in the spotlight was not something he longed for, and was rather taxing for him to deal with. The only reason that he was helping in the rebuilding at all was because all of his attempts to wallow alone at Grimmauld Place had been met with what had had all the makings of an intervention. He had better things to do than have well meaning people mistake his desire for solitude to be something more sinister. 

Which brought them to the books.

The library hadn’t been under attack during the final battle, but rather it had been under attack by the Carrows, and therefore it was looking entirely too spare for Hermione’s (and Madame Pince’s) likings. The books had been stored in an abandoned home in Hogsmeade, and their lack of proper treatment showed. 

Harry and Ron had been instructed to dust, and to sort. 

It was pure tedium. 

Harry did not want that Prophet headline to become a reality. That was not acceptable by him. 

So, alas, tedium had won out over his desire to just spell the book back on the shelves.

“Hermione,” Ron said, and he looked over in the direction of the doorway. There, indeed, was Hermione. “Bloody hell, these books are heavy.”

“Hullo, Hermione,” Harry offered, a smile on his face. “Taking a break from your tasks?”

“Professor McGonagall is making me,” Hermione said, her lack of delight at this evident to all who heard her. “I’d much rather work through but she thinks that I’m running myself positively ragged.” 

  
  


“You don’t think there’s some truth to that?”

“Of course there is,” she said, her tone idle. “I’m eager to get the school back to shape before classes resume in the fall.” 

“You’re sure you’re not using this to distract yourself from not being able to find your mum and dad?” 

Whether Ron thought he was being helpful or not, Harry wasn’t certain. He was dubious that his comments provided Hermione with any sort of cheer, or even insight. 

“I don’t think we need to talk about that right now, Ron,” he said. 

“No, my dad told my mum about it,” he said. “It’s called projecting. The Muggle blokes do it. When they’re trying to distract themselves from their grief.” 

“I  _ know _ what projecting is,” Hermione snapped. “I’m not doing it. I’m just taking a break from my parents now, Ron. I’ll look for them when we’re done with the school.”

“And we’ll help her,” Harry chimed in. “We will,” he said. “Ron and I. We’ll go with you. It will be like an adventure.” 

“I’ve always wanted to meet a kangaroo.”


End file.
